


A Flash of Auburn Hair

by celluloidbroomcloset



Category: The Avengers (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3562400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloidbroomcloset/pseuds/celluloidbroomcloset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting Emma Peel for the first time, John Steed considers what to do next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Flash of Auburn Hair

John Steed hung up his bowler, his umbrella, tossed his keys onto the side table, poured himself a drink and stretched out lengthwise on his sofa. The whole activity took no more than a few minutes, but during that time he refused to allow himself the indulgence of contemplation.

Now, reclining with a good brandy in one hand and a cigarette in the other, he gave himself over to introspection. Setting the cigarette firmly between his lips, he removed the card from his wallet and handled it like a talisman.

Mrs. Emma Peel.

Black lettering on a cream card – straightforward, elegantly simple. Rather like the young woman.

Earlier that day, he’d been momentarily distracted from this world and the next by a flash of auburn hair in his rearview mirror. No lightning bolts or thunderclaps – just the natural response of one human being finding another immediately, impossibly attractive. He was so distracted, in fact, that he had to stop rather quickly for the car in front of him. The hard thump of Emma Peel’s Lotus colliding with the back of his Bentley rattled his jaw. Then they were both out of their vehicles. He could still see her flashing eyes, her beautiful face partially contorted by anger, her tense, deep voice berating him. He barely heard a word she said at first.

Then he heard a great deal more than he liked to. She was understandably annoyed, but to insult his driving ability was a bit beyond the pale. He tried to explain, summoned every ounce of charm at his disposal, and still she persisted in insisting that it was all his fault. Which he supposed it was, but still. He had been distracted. 

Steed wafted the brandy beneath his nose as he recalled the first sight of her. By God, but she was beautiful, though. Beautiful and, as he had occasion to discover later that evening, brilliant. How was it possible that they were on their way to the same place? That they had both been invited to John Mandeville’s wine-tasting? That the pair of them, who never met in London society before, should cross paths twice in one day?

Yet there she was, across the cellar floor, sipping an Algerian red and conversing with Mandeville’s aide de camp about some obscure mathematical treatise recently published in an even more obscure journal. Mandeville made the introductions and Steed was thrilled by the flash of recognition, then of amusement, in those dark eyes. 

Steed tasted his brandy. He wished he could remember what exactly they talked about. It didn’t much matter. Whatever words were exchanged meant little to him, and probably less to her. He gleaned a few basic facts. Young, but already a widow; an acting CEO of a high profile company. At that, he nearly dismissed her as a pretty young ingenue, buoyed by Daddy’s money and a CEO in name only. Then she set in on those things he never could get a solid grip on – mathematics, applied chemistry, physics, modern art. He listened, not understanding a word, but enthralled. He surprised himself by wanting very much to understand.

Part of Steed's talent as agent was an intrinsic sensitivity to others. He'd learned decipher to motives, understand what people were capable and incapable of. The longer Emma Peel spoke, the more she fascinated him. Within a few minutes he knew how intelligent she was, how exacting, how incredibly dangerous. She possessed a rare combination of intellect and empathy, brilliance and insolence. Sex, too, beneath that cool gaze. The unabashed manner in which her eyes traveled up his body – the challenge that was plain in her face. She was electricity itself. Beneath a staid exterior he discerned a woman of great passions, of great energy and untapped potential. Her insolence fascinated him. Her smile, bright and honest and the kindest he’d ever seen – that fascinated him. He’d known her a few hours, and he was utterly smitten by her. 

But there was something more to Emma Peel even than all that. She was quite similar to Mrs. Gale, really – the same challenge in her face, the same conflict, the same strength untempered by mistaken notions of what it meant to feminine. But where Cathy seemed to view his masculinity as a challenge to overcome, Mrs. Peel - even on so short an acquaintance - viewed it as challenge to be enjoyed. Steed was not overly vain, but he knew when a woman was attracted to him. It was there in the way she moved around him, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. The way her hand brushed against his as she handed him her card, her dark eyes flashing, her beautiful face framed perfectly by her auburn hair.

Steed sighed and set the brandy on his coffee table. He did not mind admitting that he wanted her. He wanted to take those smooth lips with his own. He wanted those long legs wrapped around his waist. It was ungentlemanly, but he could not quite forbear the thought of what it must be like to make love with her, to hear that lilting voice calling his name, to make her tremble in ecstasy, to feel that lithe body against his. Surely she had felt it too, that wire-tight tension between them.

Steed rose to his feet and picked his way across the frankly messy sitting room floor towards his bedroom. In a day or two, he would call her and invite her to dinner. He would get to know her better. He would learn everything about her. And perhaps, if he was very lucky, she would grant him a few weeks. A few weekends in the country, a few lingering kisses turning to intense, passionate nights. Then it would slowly, gradually, die out, and he would move on and she would move on. They might remain friends; he would like her for a friend. The attraction could not last; he would never expect it to. Yet, he thought as he kicked off his shoes, how glorious it would be if it did.

As Steed readied himself for bed, another thought occurred to him. An intriguing moment when she mentioned her interest in judo and karate. Not at all the sort of thing one usually tells first-time acquaintances. Doubly intriguing were the few vague hints of discontent she dropped. She seemed so very tired of her current responsibilities. He paused in the act of unbuttoning his shirt. A unique young woman, Mrs. Peel, but also a bored young woman. Talents being wasted in business. Charm being wasted. He smiled to himself. Shame for such a lovely young lady to be bored.


End file.
